When Death Comes Knocking
by Ormandria
Summary: A famous hotel owner has requested the presence of the Moore Family plus one to witness a week of fun and games ... and an impending murder....
1. Prologue

_**Author's Note & Disclaimer:** I do NOT own Case Closed or any of the characters therein, save the new ones created for this fanfic. This is based SOLELY on the Americanized Anime that appears on Adult Swim on Cartoon Network, and thus the use of the American names for the characters. Please R&R_

_**Ormandria**_

* * *

The house stood silent as a quiet breeze blew through the sparse trees that surrounded it. It was an elegant masterpiece from another time, with high arched windows, a wide wrap-around porch complete with a swing and several set-in oil lamps that were used whenever people had cause to sit outside. The ivy, creeping up along the sides of the great house, aiming to reach the third floor, completed the picture, giving on-lookers the impression of a house that had been built almost a century before and that had withstood the test of time.

It had an air of noble dignity and composure that was not unlike that which the owner carried with her. Normally the house, which stood only a few hundred feet from a cliff over-looking the ocean, was bustling with activity as the staff went about their daily chores and tourists, from all over Japan, came to glimpse the beautiful scenery and stay in one of the many rooms that were rented out for holidays in the house.

Today though, there were no guests to wander the grounds, admiring the scenery and no staff to take care of them or the owner. In fact, there was no one at all in or around the house, save a lone figure sitting by a high window in the foray. She sat, her back straight in the same wheel-chair that she had spent most of the last two decades in, looking out the window at the seagulls flying overhead. The sun, still sitting high in the sky, glistened off their wings and their voices cried out in wonderful resonance against the echoing cliff face beyond.

After several moments of enjoying the scene, the elderly woman heaved a deep sigh and turned back to her desk and the task that lay before her. Several envelopes lay before her, already addressed and sealed. Only one remained to be dealt with.

It had taken some time to convince the staff to leave her for the day, and she regretted having to tell people that they would not be able to vacation at the house this summer, but it had been necessary. She needed the room for her guests and as for the staff; she preferred that the only people present for this particular gathering be those that she specifically invited.

The woman picked up the final invitation, looking it over one last time. She then slipped it into its envelope and brought a small, wet sponge across the back so that she could seal it. Picking up the calligraphy pen next to her, she began to patiently scrawl the name and address across the front. Her aged hands moved with the steadiness of one many years younger then her, or one who had been well schooled in penmanship in her younger days.

When she was done, she placed the envelope on top of the others, and piled them together so that they would be ready for the postman when he came to collect the mail later in an hour's time. Once that was done, there would be not turning back. Not that she was interested in the chance to turn back. This was something that _needed_ to be done. Something that _she_ needed to do.

She placed the letters in her lap and wheeled herself to the front hall to place them on the stand near the door, so they would remain within easy reach. After that she decided to go fix herself a light snack.

* * *

The pile of envelopes sat neatly on the small round table near the door, the top most one, just slightly askew from the others. On its face, in neat, yet elegant print, read the name Richard Moore, Detective.

Outside the house, the seagulls continued to call out to each other as they dove repeatedly into the sea for food, and the breeze continued to waft its way through the tree branches, lending an appearance of serenity to the surroundings.


	2. Chapter 1

"Dad!" Rachel yelled for the third time, startling Richard out of his comfortable dream.

"What!" he cried out as he jolted upward. He had, until Rachel's interruption, been leaned back in his chair, feet up on his desk, taking a much needed afternoon nap.

"Mail," Rachel said in an extremely cheerful voice, as she dropped a bundle of letters on the desk in front of her dad.

"Why'd you wake my up for that?" the detective groused.

"Because you got a letter from the VanGroten House, and I was curious to see what it was. You know, since it is summer."

"The VanGroten House?" Richard asked, confused. "Isn't that that fancy-schmancy place up north where people take their families for a summer vacation at the beach?" He picked up the envelope on the top of the pile. It had his name alright and in the upper, left-hand corner it had the swirling and dynamic VanGroten coat of arms that served as the hotels logo.

"Yup!"

"Well then it's probably just some advertisement!" He tossed the letter aside unopened.

"But Dad! This would be the perfect opportunity for us to have a real summer vacation! I'm out of school for the summer and today is Conan's last day of school. It could be fun. Swimming in the ocean and playing tennis on the tennis courts. A real family vacation."

"Conan's not family," Richard grumbled. Though admittedly, he didn't truly believe that. It was easy to keep complaining then to ever admit to his daughter, or anyone else, that Conan had actually grown on him and that he did find himself thinking of him as a member if the family.

"Dad!"

"I'm home," Conan said in a wary voice as he walked through the front door. He dropped his book bag on the couch and sank into a chair. He looked worn and tired.

"See Dad? Conan needs a vacation." Rachel reached over and lifted Conan's head up and squeezing his cheeks together so that Richard could see just how tired the boy was.

"I du?" Conan managed to get out despite Rachel's firm grip on his facial muscles.

"Yes, you do," she responded in a slightly irritated voice.

"Rachel, I would love nothing more then to go on a vacation…"

"Great!"

"But we just can't afford it."

Rachel sighed and dropped Conan back into the chair. He rubbed his chin, trying to get some of the feeling back into his face.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Dad got an ad from the VanGroten House and I thought it would be a great opportunity to take a family vacation."

"And I said no," Richard stated firmly.

"Can I see it?" Conan asked.

"I don't see why not." Richard picked up the letter and tossed at Conan, who caught it nimbly as it flew through the air.

Conan looked it over. "I don't think this is an ad," he remarked.

"Oh? And what makes you such the expert," Richard demanded.

"Well," Conan passed the letter back to Richard. "It has your job title on it. Most ads don't worry about a job title unless it's part of the person's name, like Doctor or Reverend, not detective though."

Rachel leaned over to look at the envelope again.

"You know dad, he's right. It does say Richard Moore, Detective."

"All right, I'll open it." He opened the envelope and pulled out a small card with the engraved words 'You're Invited' on the front. Flipping the card open as well, he began to read aloud.

"Detective Moore, You and your family are cordially invited up to the VanGroten House for the occasion of Ms. Emmaline VanGroten's 80th Birthday. All expenses will be paid and you will be compensated for your time? What's that about?" Richard turned the card over, half expecting some sort of joke to appear.

"Does it say anything else?" asked Rachel.

"Only the date and time that she wants us there and the phone number to RSVP to."

"Compensated for your time? Sounds more like a job then a vacation," Conan said.

"That's got to be it! She's heard of the great Detective Richard Moore and wants me there to protect her precious jewelry from potential thieves!"

'_Yay,'_ Conan thought sarcastically. _'That's got to be it.' _

"So does this mean we get to go?" Rachel asked excitedly.

Richard scratched his head as he continued to stare at the strange invitation. "I guess so. You'd better get packing then. According to this, she wants us there Saturday afternoon."

Rachel didn't need telling twice as she squealed in delight and ran to her room to pack. "Come on, Conan!" she called back.

"Coming, Rachel!" Conan went to go pack as well, sparring just a slight glance back over his shoulder at the still bewildered Richard and the odd invitation he still clutched in his hand.


End file.
